In Her Prime: A Hunger Games Story
by 3hunna
Summary: Pearl Perrina is as beautiful and slippery as her name suggests. However, there's a lot more underneath her pretty face; namely her thirst for the crown. Follow this bold Career Tribute on her journey to victory and see if District One celebrates her triumph...or her defeat.
1. The Beginning

_Here is (you guessed it) the beginning of a new project I've been wanting to start. Enjoy this little introduction! I'll probably update more when my SYOC is finished._

* * *

My mom is the first to burst into the room, embracing me in her long arms. Her hugs are just like her: warm and comforting. She brushes my hair with her free hand and says, voice muffled because of my shoulder, "I am so proud of you, sweetheart." She pulls away and I see the beginnings of tears creeping out onto her eyelashes. My dad appears then, my younger sister right behind them. As big as an ox, he is much more reserved than my mother.

He steps forward and I straighten up immediately. He pauses a moment, then says "Give 'em hell, honey." My smile grows and I see the corners of his mouth raise up too. They rarely give me these words of encouragement, these reassurances in my abilities. Not that I need them all the time -I'm just not that type of girl- but, right now, they're special. Then it's back to business.

"Make sure you're the first to the Cornucopia-"

"Don't make friends; make allies-"

"Sponsors love a fighter not a-"

"Oh, stop it," my sister interrupts. "She already knows _everything._"

I grin. Opal can always make me smile with her gentle prodding. Just two years my junior, she's almost as tall as I am at 18. Slender and gorgeous, with the same dark hair and almond-shaped eyes as the rest of the women in our family, she pulls me into a tight embrace too.

"You better win, Pearl," she whispers into my hair. "I won't let you live it down otherwise."

I release her, but she keeps a hand on my shoulder. Her words, a dark joke yesterday, are all too real today and we know it. Then it's my mother's turn to hug me again, and a Peacekeeper appears to escort them out.

All of them shout out last minute advice as they leave, but I just wave them away and nod. My sister was right: I do know everything. And the thing that I know above all else is that the games have finally begun.

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_Well there you have it! Leave some reviews! :)_


	2. The Competition

_Here's another little pre-games chapter! :)_

* * *

The day flies by. I'm whisked away from the Justice building in a fancy car, loaded onto a high speed train and confined to a handsome room while District 1 disappears into the distance. I pace it, wondering who my mentor will be. There have been a little over a dozen winners from district 1, and a little less than half of them women. Some are much more competent than others and a halfway decent mentor is a necessity. Growing up I've been taught fighting techniques, survival strategies and a hundred ways to kill, but the decision of who my mentor will be is totally out of my hands. Feeling helpless makes me uneasy. Control is power and power is comforting.

Our Capitol escort, a little man with blue tattoos on his arms and face as well as surgically-pointed teeth collects me after a long while. I can't help but be a little unnerved by his sense of style as we walk the length of the train. I wonder if looking like a shark swimming through the reeds is "in" at the Capitol. I try to swallow my anxiety, tell myself to get over it, but my insides are doing somersaults as the Capitol man leads me through a set of double doors and introduces me to my mentor, a pretty woman with a glass of something brown in her hand. She sits on a dark, inviting sofa and doesn't stand up to shake my hand.

"Devine," she says in a thick voice. Her grip is very firm.

I smile as I respond "Pearl" and try not to show too much enthusiasm. She's nearing thirty and has a long mane of caramel hair and exudes confidence. We've watched video tapes of past games at the training academy. Boys who crushed people's skulls with their bare hands, girls who slipped poison into their allies' water. "Something to inspire us," the trainers always said. But Devine, even after living a soft life for nearly a decade, half crushes my hand with hers, gives me a look with her dark eyes that says she earned her crown. I silently thank Devine's parents for giving me a real victor to guide me.

We make small talk for a few moments. I get a feel for her, sensing that we have a little in common. I can't be sure, but when we dive into the reapings, I think I see the shadow of a grin as she sips her drink. Maybe she was hoping for an able girl from District 1 as well.

We're first up and I'm very pleased with myself. I'm coolly confident, speak clearly, and look my district partner in the eye as we shake hands. I'm particularly proud of that last bit, because District 1's male tribute this year is enormous. Named Valor, I remember seeing him around the academy once or twice over the years.

You see, every child in District 1 is observed in their elementary school years. The supervisors agree on a few dozen boys and girls who show promise and they're transferred to the Training Academy at eight or nine years old. As the years go by, the numbers are thinned down. Some are asked to leave, while others crack under the strain. I was skilled enough to make it all the way to the end with two other girls. One of them barely scraped by, but the other was certainly skilled. However, it was I who was chosen to represent District 1 this year.

I mean, I was chosen officially. If one of the other girls was really desperate, they could have volunteered anyway, but they would face serious repercussions in the arena. The main thing being excluded from the Career Tribute alliance and, if you're a tough tribute in the arena and you're not a part of the winning team, then you're going down first. It's as simple as that. I assume it's similar in Districts 2 and 4.

But Valor is no rogue trainee. Over six feet tall and several hundred pounds of muscle, I can see why he was picked over the other boys his age. Boys and girls are kept separated most of the time at the Academy, but rumors still travel like wildfire. Who's probably going to be picked and who likes who are the most popular topics of discussion. Any kind of romantic relationships are strictly prohibited and are grounds for immediate dismissal at the Academy. There's only one winner, and the fewer emotions involved, the better. In fact, the only thing we're told to do in regards of the other sex is to try and not to kill them early on in the games. We all want a victor from our own district, but everyone imagines themselves living in the house at Victor's Village.

"He'll end himself," says Devine, reading my thoughts. I give a curt nod.

Next on screen is the pair from District 2, my future allies. The boy isn't quite as big or menacing as Valor, but still large enough to pose a threat in a physical confrontation. His hair is dark and the muscles in his upper arms look like apples. Fairly typical.

The girl, on the other hand, draws my attention immediately. Thin with red hair, I guess that she's around my height but a lot lighter. The camera closes in on her face and I can see her features in detail. Haughty, heavily-lidded and beautiful. There's something else there too, but I can't quite place it. It's in the way she tilts her head to the camera, mindlessly running a hand through her ginger tresses with a sour expression on her face.

Devine doesn't say anything about these two, but produces a leather-bound notepad and makes a silent note about them. Next is District 3, but I find myself day dreaming halfway through it. The pair doesn't leave any impression on me. After them, it's the final members of my alliance.

The girl from District 4 looks small as she steps forward to volunteer. With sleek blond hair flying everywhere, she half runs to the stage and I get a good look at her. Small nose, watery eyes, and pale skin sets her apart from the usually tanned District 4 tributes and reminds me of some snow-white rodent. She looks capable enough. Her male counterpart represents their District a little better; golden skin, wavy hair and freckles across his nose. I think he must be a little younger, but we're whisked to the next district before I have the chance to study his boyish features further. Devine continues to study every tribute and write notes, but I can hardly pay attention. A few stand out to me though.

A girl from District 6 who towers over her district partner, a boy from District 7 who looks years older than the rest, and a twelve year old boy from 11. I wonder if any will make it past the bloodbath.

"Go to your room, eat something, and then get some sleep," Devine orders me, tone severe. Her command irks my pride, but I do so without a word. I'm not about to anger the woman in charge of my life. After eating a small serving of stew and showering in the extravagant bathroom of my room, the swaying of the train rocks me into a restless sleep...

* * *

_This story is taking shape! I'll most likely write about the interviews, some training, and then we'll be into the games (the part where everyone actually starts reading). Leave me a review!_


	3. Allies Assembled

_Here is part three!_

* * *

My first day in the Capitol is relatively uneventful. Harsh scrubbings, expensive fabrics and a chariot ride through the city. Valor and I, dressed in identical, shimmering ensembles, see each other rarely and speak even less, but as I arrive in the dining hall on day one of training, I find the only available spot to be next to him. I take my place and try to position myself as far away from him as I can.

Devine, sitting across from us with an older man on her right, appears to be waiting for me. Thick around the middle with a tremendous beard, Valor's mentor focuses his attention on his plate while Devine speaks.

"You're late," she hisses.

"It won't happen again," I quickly say. I force myself to look at her and ignore the redness in my cheeks. Valor suppresses a snort at my embarrassment with a drink of water. I resist the urge to stomp on his tire-sized foot.

Devine begins speaking while Valor's mentor nods on occasion. She talks about training and the importance of getting to know our fellow tributes, mainly our designated allies from Districts 2 and 4. Valor nods at everything she says, but I pay attention mostly out of respect. It's clear to me how important the next few days will be. In fact, it's been clear to me how important they'll be since I had baby teeth. I look at Valor bob his head and I'm reminded of a dog when you pretend to drop scraps on the ground in front of him.

"Just pretend it's another day at the academy," Devine finishes, standing up. Valor follows suit, his mentor having not said a word at all. I say "right" and join them as they walk to the elevator.

Devine and I enter the car, but as Valor steps forward, Devine stops him in his tracks.

"Wait for Tyrant," she says, voice oozing venom. The elevator doors close just as Valor's mentor rises from his seat.

Devine corners me as the lift takes off.

"It doesn't matter how good he may or may not be," Devine says quickly. "Tyrant hasn't brought a tribute home in more than a decade. Valor is out." I nod my head like a child. No one can argue with this fact. "Focus on the others, doesn't matter the district. You have one job for the next three days…" Devine takes a step towards me and I see the full intensity of her glower.

"…find out who _the_ _threat_ is."

She takes a step back and the elevator makes a soft _ding _as the doors open. I take a steady breath and walk into the Training Center. Filled with weapon, survival, and training stations in every direction, the only other tributes present are those from District 4. They stand together a little ways away, but do not speak. I straighten my back and walk confidently towards them. They turn my way as they register my soft footsteps and I shake hands with each one and learn their names.

"Amona."

"Sull."

"Pearl," I respond with equal indifference. Each of us speaks with confidence, as if greeting a classmate out of politeness.

Amona fidgets with her hair and fills the silence with idle chit chat about the Capitol. Sull and I take turns responding, but I take the time to study them whenever I'm not obligated to say something. Sull is wiry and quiet. He crosses his arms and I notice the multitude of scars on his hands and knuckles. His hair, unkempt at the reaping, has been cut short along the sides and left long on top in some capitol style. He's handsome, but the curve of his circular cheek gives away his true age.

Amona is the opposite. Small and built up, her porcelain-white skin is untouched everywhere I look. In fact, she looks like she hasn't ever seen a day of sunlight in her life. I notice her hair is thin and she glances nervously around the room while talking.

Valor arrives only a few moments later in a car with our remaining allies. Everyone introduces themselves again, but by the time I learn District 2's names— Augur and Felina—, the rest of the tributes start arriving.

They come in ones and twos and timidly stand around us. We Career tributes stay in a tight half circle making a lot of noise. We laugh at jokes and stand at ease. It's all part of the act. I'm not sure if I imagine the fear on the other boy's and girl's faces or if they really shake at the sight of us. It's a particularly young crop of tributes this year. Most are thin and look uncomfortable in the expensive clothes provided by the Capitol. They remind me of mice.

My allies are a different story. Augur is very well built, but looks like he could be Valor's younger brother. I wonder if he'll fight for the alpha male spot or roll over for my district partner. Felina is very quiet. Just a hair taller than me and tiny around the waist, she looks like a proud tiger stretched out in the sun; very comfortable and very regal. She only speaks once or twice to me and says nothing at all to Amona.

Once the last tributes arrive, the head trainer steps forward and we quiet down. After a short welcome and warning that fighting with one another will result in a harsh punishment, we are released.

I head towards the combat station that reminds me most of home at once: the ax post. The trainers, large men with thick muscles look me up and down as I approach them. They give me disbelieving looks and one asks "You sure you're in the right place, birdy?"

I give them my best smirk and pick up a weapon.

* * *

_There we have it! Just a few training days, the interviews, and the blood will start flowing. let me know what you think so far!_


	4. Keep Your Friends Close

_Enjoy! _

* * *

By the end of the hour, the ax station trainers are practically kissing the ground I walk on. Offensive strikes, twirling parries, even a deadly one-handed throw: I can do it all. I don't know what it is, but even when I first picked up a shabby hatchet years ago, I knew this was my tool.

Logically, it's a good choice. Ranged weapons are fine, but you can only shoot one arrow at a time. It's not the sort of weapon you want when you're surrounded with only a moment separating you from certain death. Close range fighting intimidated some of the girls back at the Training Academy; most would rather take a few steps back and hurl a knife. I knew better though. Most of the reigning victors were proficient at some sort of close-to-medium ranged weapons and only a handful of archers have taken the crown. You're required to study all sorts of weaponry back home, but our main skill is our responsibility to discover and nurture. Maybe I was meant to be born in District 7, whose primary industry is lumber. I don't think I would be happy with a life of chopping down trees and not tributes, but I would be satisfied in some small way.

I think it's the fact that I'm a girl that gives me an edge too. We are viewed as less of a threat in the arena and that suits me just fine. There's some kind of high I get when I fight… I become some sort of beast in training, an undefeatable force who can't be stopped. My gender means nothing when I feel the smooth handle of my own ax back home. All that matters is the blood pumping through my fingertips.

The selection in the capitol is different, but the good kind of different. I'm used to a heavier axe head, a duller blade. The weapon I hold in my hands is sleeker and razor sharp. The back of the head boasts a deadly spike as well. I imagine myself in the arena and find the training dummy in front of me torn to pieces. The trainers give me praise, show me how to slash most effectively with the Capitol's axes.

"Looks like we know who the front runner is this year," says the older of the two. I think they must be brothers or something. They have the same grin and bearish noses.

"Can't say you're wrong," I retort, coy and playful. They guffaw and I excuse myself to try some of the other stations.

Before lunch break is called, I meet up with each of my allies at another station. I throw spears with Sull and Valor, learn some advanced hand-to-hand combat moves with Augur, and even shoot some arrows with Amona. The only person I don't spend at least some time with is Felina. I drifted over to the knife combat station, where she spent most of her morning, but she breaks for some water as soon as I get there. I turn on the spot and go to the throwing knife range, so I look like that was my destination all along. I feel a little snubbed and, as I chuck knife after knife, begin to think that I don't like the girl from District 2 much.

I'm alright with the blades, but I focus more on the stations around me. Amona is still shooting arrows, a look of concentration contorting her features. She does well, better than me anyways, but I think she lacks some real close-up skills. I imagine I wouldn't have much difficulty dispatching her at any range closer than ten yards. Sull and Augur are now laughing together at the sword station. I've seen some skills from each of them, so they'll be of use in the bloodbath.

Valor and Felina seem to be the front runners as of now. They're both some combination of strong, sly, and skilled and, in Valor's case, stupid. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm sure the Capitol will widely consider them for sponsor ship. At least we'll be together in the beginning so I can keep an eye on them, learn some of their skills.

I take steady aim with another blade and fling it at a training dummy ten feet away. It buries itself in the dummy's stomach, effectively causing some type of internal organ damage if it had any. The instructor makes some comment about my stance but I ignore her.

Devine's voice comes to me as I grip the handle of a new knife. _Find out who _the threat _is._ I see Felina swaggering towards Augur and Sull across the gym, ponytail swinging with the motion. I raise my hand and bring it forward in a flash, this time aiming at the mannequin's head, and imagine it's the girl from District 2.

* * *

Lunch break arrives and all of the tributes file into a small cantina next to the gymnasium. Everyone serves themselves and, for the most part, sits at an empty table to eat silently. My allies and I, however, squeeze in together on all sides of one. I arrive last and find a spot next to Amona, who's eating a fish sandwich. It must taste a lot better than it smells, because Sull is eating one of the foul clubs too.

"Alright," begins Valor, a steaming slab of meat resting on his tray. "I think it's clear that all of us are skilled." We nod, murmur agreement.

"Any objections to an alliance?" Valor continues. We peer at one another, as if daring someone to challenge the other five. "No? Good."

"Now, first things first…" I take a bite of my apple while Valor fiddles with his fork. "Is there anyone who could be of use to us?"

"It's too early to tell," says Felina. Her meager lunch lays untouched in front of her crossed arms. "It's only day one of training."

"Right," agrees Augur.

Amona stiffens up. "I've already seen some tributes fair alright at different weapons stations. District 7 wondered over to axes after Pearl left and the girls from 3 and 6 did fine at the obstacle courses from what I saw." Her voice is low enough that only we hear her.

"District 7 is the big guy, right?" asks Sull, equally as quiet.

"Yes," I respond.

"Okay," says Valor, clearly wanting to take control of the conversation. I survey the cafeteria, looking at the other tributes. They avoid my gaze. "Then I think that we should keep an eye out for them. See if they have the chops to stick with us."

"Sounds like a plan," Amona says. The strategy talk slides into easier conversations, ones filled with boasts, fake smiles and we get a feel for one another.

_Quite a mix, _I think to myself, laughing at something Augur says. _Wonder who gets to face me in the end._

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_Just a couple chapters until the games begin! I'm always open to suggestions, so let me know if there's anything you want to see!_


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